The Knife's Edge (34 page)

“But I am terrified by mine…”

Maris gripped Morrowil, and pain roiled in his eyes. He pressed the sword to Gray’s chest. “Then if the blade came to you in darkness, show it only light.” The Ronin turned.

“Wait,” he called. Maris stood, cloak wavering. “Will I see you again?”

“We shall meet again, in one realm or another,” Maris said. “Remember, when one thread ends, it’s only waiting for another beginning.” Maris looked to his wrist. “I almost forgot. There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. That mark of yours, it’s the mark of the Devari.”

“But… I thought it was the mark of a Reaver.”

“Who told you that?” Maris asked.

Not wanting to reveal Vera, he conjured a lie, “A book I read, one of the stories.”

“The book was wrong. While they both live within the same walls, and the marks are fairly similar, a Devari and a Reaver are worlds different. Reavers are men and women who control the spark. They are respected and feared throughout Farhaven, though many are corrupted by their greed for more power.”

Gray’s curiosity spiked as he remembered what Vera said. “The book also said that Ronin hated Reavers.”

Maris grunted. “True, but again taken out of context. There is no great love for Reavers from any who remember the true events of the Lieon. They were our magic against magic, but many of them sided with the enemy, selling our secrets, and in the end it resulted in a great schism.”

Gray nodded. “But what is a Devari anyway?”

“An elite group of warriors who can hear keener, and smell sharper, as well as sense the presence of others. They also have the peculiar ability, for a small moment, to inhabit the body of one nearby and feel what they feel.”

Gray was speechless. “Are you saying that is who I once was?”

“It’s at least a good start,” Maris said.

“Where across the gates?”

“Within the great desert city of Farbs, in a dangerous place known as the Citadel, where all but Reavers and Devari are forbidden.” The Ronin looked over his shoulder with a sly smirk. “I hope that helps,” he said sincerely and turned, riding into the haze of white. Just like that—he was gone.

In the distance, Gray heard the crunch of snow. He reached out with his mind. He sensed Ayva’s quiet steps, Mura’s firm plodding, Darius’ sly gate, Karil’s smooth tread, and even Rydel’s almost silent stride, as well as the hundreds of villager’s behind them. As he opened his eyes, he remembered Maris’ words and glanced to his wrist. The ability to sense others.

Darius was the first to appear. The rogue coughed into his ice-rimmed gloves, “Where’s the Ronin?”

“Gone.”

The rogue cleared his throat, “I think I misheard you, did you say Maris was gone?”

He turned, eyeing his friend with a smile. Darius mop of disheveled brown hair was matted down by white snow. “I did. He just left.”

The rogue scratched his head, confused, “Well, is he coming back?”

“We are on our own now.” Gray eyed the trail ahead as if he could see the Kingdom of Ice around the bend. He knew he would see Maris again. And Kail was out there too. He couldn’t forget that. “Just another thread waiting to begin,” he whispered into the wind.

The Shining City

G
RAY SLOUCHED IN THE SADDLE.
H
E
listened to the sound of hooves on the road as he faded in and out of sleep, when he glimpsed an image of white stone. It was only a flash, but it shone brilliantly like a white gem. He jolted upright.

Mura rode at his side. “Well, good morning.” Gray rubbed his tired eyes. “I’m glad you’re awake, lad—I think you ought to see this.” The hermit raised his staff and pointed.

Gray’s jaw dropped as he looked ahead. In the distance, sat a massive city of snowy white against a crystal blue sky. Towers like brilliant flutes shimmered, rising impossibly high, while long bridges suspended by mostly air stretched between the spires. A great alabaster wall surrounded the grand kingdom.

Up and down the wide dirt road, murmurs of amazement rippled through the scattered villagers. The trail of refugees buzzed like a kicked bee hive.

Immense, Gray thought, to seem so vast and tall from this distance. Clouds hung in the sky above. Their gigantic shadows not enough to darken even a pocket of the crystalline city.

“What do you think?” Mura questioned, swaying in his saddle upon his dark gelding.

“I never thought it would be so big. It’s beyond breathtaking.”

With the coolness of dawn fading, Mura shed his cloak and stuffed it into his saddlebags. “And yet, it is but a small glimpse of what it once was.”

“What do you mean? How could this be anything more?”

“What you see before you is only one of the cities that once comprised the mountains, and only part of the Kingdom of Ice.”

“Part?”

“Long ago these mountains were filled, all of it the Kingdom of Ice. It was a sprawling fortress with each city, just like this one, connected by colossal bridges, so long and wide they appeared as if made by magic. Sadly, now this is all that remains from the Kage’s path of destruction during the Lieon.”

Looking at the city before him, Gray couldn’t imagine anything grander. “I’ve read the stories about the Great Kingdoms, but this? How can men make such a thing?”

“It was a time of legends, thousands of years of knowledge and wisdom accumulated to create a world at its very pinnacle,” Mura said and shook his head. “No, I’m afraid it has been a long time since anything like this has been made. Sadly, many of the great builders are lost to time. However, many of the nine Great Kingdoms still exist. If only you could see Eldas, Kingdom of Forest. It is a city of wonders, where lights are suspended in the ancient monarchs whose branches reach the heavens,” he said excitedly and then sighed.

Looking at Mura, he felt a twinge of sorrow for the man, for a moment glimpsing what the man had left behind. “You’ve lost a lot for me. I’m truly sorry, Mura.”

“I’m not,” said the hermit and winked. “I would make the same decision again in the blink of an eye, my boy.”

Gray smiled, hearing the sincerity in the man’s voice. All along the road, the people laughed and smiled as they stared at the fortress-like city. For once, they let down their guard. He watched as men grasped their neighbor’s shoulders, and women talked excitedly, while children pointed, trying to gather their elder’s attention as they hopped on the balls of their feet. It was infectious and he found himself smiling as well, caught up in their good cheer.

Mura leaned closer. “Before we enter, my boy, there is one thing you must know. The people of the Shining City are proud, but their pride borders on conceit. They know no better because they are cutoff by the collapsed passes to the west, the pass you bridged, and they have been that way for the past two thousand years, since the war of the Lieon.”

Gray scratched his head in thought. “If that’s the case, then it will be hard to convince them of the danger they’re in.”

“That will be the trick of it,” he said. “They are stubborn to the bone. Moreover, we are the first outsiders they’ve seen in a very long while. In the past, other towns, including Tir Re’ Dol sent messenger doves in an effort to establish some form of cooperation, and the city’s king, Katsu, not only refused, but sent back hawks with the severed heads of the doves. He proclaimed that if it were possible for men to be sent he would do the very same thing.”

“How can someone like that become king?” Gray asked.

“Do not be so quick to judge a man’s character, for I suspect Katsu may not have been so foolhardy when he rose to power. Though with time, power corrupts many. If he held a hint of pride or arrogance before, with the rule of an isolated land, it has only worsened.” Mura’s eyes narrowed, “Suffice it to say, this will not be an easy task.”

Gray thought Katsu sounded like an arrogant fool; then again, power did change people. He glanced to his hand that held Fael’wyn’s reins, eyeing the sinuous black tattoo. The nexus whispered in his mind, but he pushed it aside, swallowing hard. Somehow and somewhere along the line, Gray now was responsible for the villagers, and if Katsu wouldn’t see reason, he wasn’t sure what he would do. He felt the sword on his back and itched to grip its dark red grip.

Ayva and Darius rode up alongside him. “My eyes, look at that!” the rogue exclaimed with a lopsided grin as the sun gleamed off the soaring walls.

“It’s beautiful,” Ayva whispered. She cast Gray a sidelong glance. Contrary to her shy smile, her blue eyes flashed before she turned away. They neared, close enough to see the guards walking on the high ramparts of the gates.

“Dice…” Darius muttered

Ayva kicked him in the shin. “Watch your mouth, there are children around!”

Darius mumbled beneath his breath, when men on horseback approached. Gray squinted under the glare of the gleaming armor. He eyed their sharp, burnished halberds and heavy helmets that must have sweltered in the sun. Their mounts snorted, cantering briskly, obviously fresh from the stables. The two parties came to a halt, a stone’s throw apart.

A rider with a plume upon his helmet rode forward. “I am Captain Mashiro, commander of the High Guard, servant of the righteous King Katsu,” he said in a strange accent, clipping his words. Then he paused, eyeing the procession. “Who leads this rabble?”

The few villagers at the head of the line turned to stare at Gray. Reluctantly, he nudged Fael’wyn forward and spoke, “There is no one leader among us, but many. We seek entrance to your fair city.”

Karil appeared at his side with Rydel beside her. Surprisingly, she looked untouched by travel. While he felt as if he could fall asleep for a week, she looked well rested. Her fall of blonde hair, tucked behind her elvin ears, was brushed to a shiny luster and her scarlet cloak looked as if recently washed.

“Who are you and how in the light’s realm did you cross the pass?” Mashiro questioned.

Gray wasn’t sure how to answer when Mura appeared at his side. “The pass was bridged when we came across it. There is no longer a divide between the Shining City and the world,” the hermit shouted in reply.

This news seemed to rock Mashiro, but he answered in a steady voice, “What is it you seek?”

“We come from the west, from Lakewood. We have dire news and seek council with King Katsu, immediately. These people need only the shelter of your high walls.”

Instead of answering, Mashiro turned to his armed party, and they conversed in lowered voices. Gray wished he had a way to hear their words.

“What on earth are they discussing and why is it taking this long?” Ayva questioned, restless.

“This isn’t good,” Darius grumbled and shifted in his saddle.

Gray looked back to the armed entourage when a voice skittered across his awareness. Listen… He paused, and the pendant grew hot on his chest. Suddenly, the nexus pulsed within his skull, swirling eddies of white forming in his mind. Gray listened and the nexus filled him. Suddenly, threads wove in his hands. Feeling almost as if his power was not his own, it flowed through his limbs, into his fingers tips. Yet he knew it came from him. The threads wove together, thin ribbons of light blended with wind. Then they abruptly tightened.

He reached out a hand instinctively and the wind flew to the armed guards. Then as if ladling water, he cupped the words, catching the vibrations in the wind and bringing them to his ear.

“What if it is a ploy?” said a guard, watching the crowd.

“A pretty big ploy if you ask me. Look at them, they’re near dead,” another replied.

“It doesn’t matter,” Mashiro countered. “You know the rules. Outsiders are only permitted under orders from the King or from Councilor Tervasian.”

Mashiro twisted, looking set on a decision, and Gray knew the answer. But before the man could speak, he raised his voice. “Mashiro, we are hungry and exhausted. If you have a shred of compassion in your body you can see that, and I doubt Tervasian would approve of this.

Even from this distance, Mashiro visibly rocked back on his horse, stunned by his words. “You are under order of the Councilor?”

“The Councilor himself,” Gray bellowed. He tried to hide anything but his conviction. Gray felt sidelong glances of uncertainty from Karil and the others. He didn’t look back, hoping they would continue to play along.

At last, the guard captain raised a hand. “Approach alone!”

Gray turned to Karil. “Come with me. It might help our position.”

Karil simply nodded. “Stay here,” she ordered to Rydel. The man looked liable to argue for a moment, but at last bent his head.

As they approached, the captain flipped back his gleaming steel visor to unveil deep-set eyes and a beard that encroached high upon his cheeks. The men ringed him like a fan of steel. When they were a cart’s distance away, the captain spoke. “That is far enough! I said alone, how difficult was that to understand?”

“You fear a lone female, captain?” Karil asked.

The man grunted. “It is clear trouble follows you. Why should I let you in?”

“Look for your own eyes, the danger is not from us—many are women and children, and they are starving. We can move no further. You would deny them?” Karil said.